


How to Ride a Unicorn

by Pangaea



Series: Spoiled Credence AU [2]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Daddy Kink, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Post-Coital Cuddling, Slight feminization, Sugar Daddy, Voyeurism, pillow humping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-09 10:50:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11103027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pangaea/pseuds/Pangaea
Summary: Credence uses his stuffed unicorn as a humping pillow...Graves watches.





	How to Ride a Unicorn

**Author's Note:**

> beta read by the indomitable [granpappy-winchester](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com)<3

__

 

_When Credence first came to live with Graves he was pale, skittish, and severely underfed. Terrified of every sudden move and loud noise. He was selfless to a fault and hadn’t known how to ask for what he needed or accept what he wanted when Graves presented it to him, leaving Graves breathless with anger that such a sweet and considerate boy hadn’t been raised to ever once consider his own desires. He vowed Credence would always be well fed, warm, comfortable, and loved._

_He’d started with food, ensuring that Credence could trust there would be three meals a day. Simple fare at first to wean the boy’s stomach away from thin gruels and soups. Soon the dishes grew hardy and more elaborate, and Credence began putting on weight, timidly requesting his favorites._

_Next was the boy’s clothing. Graves had immediately taken Credence shopping amid squeaks of protest and soon new flattering fitted clothes filled the boy’s wardrobe to bursting. And who could blame Graves if he was passing by a store and something fine and glittering and lovely caught his eye and he thought of Credence? Soon the blushes and protests stopped and Credence would smile shy and say, “Thank you, Papa…”_

 

Graves had told Credence to expect him late, so the stillness and quiet that greets him when he arrives home is not a surprise. He pulls off his heavy coat and scarf, sheds his jacket and his tie, the stress of the day dissipating with each layer he discards. Graves neatly rolls up his sleeves and makes his way to the liquor cabinet and pours himself two fingers of fine whiskey. Graves sips his drink. He’s warmed by the golden light of the setting sun spilling through the window, and the liquor heating his belly. He thinks of his boy, of milk white skin flushing rose, and wonders where he could be.  
It is early evening after all. Graves had thought he would be coming home to Credence curled in his favorite chair with a mug of hot chocolate and any one of Graves’ thick tomes open across his lap. With his drink in hand he wanders from room to room in the brownstone. The lamps are off and everything is cast in blue shadow and waning honeyed light. At the end of the hall is Credence’s bedroom.

Graves pushes open the door and is transported into an opulent suite, which has quickly become the largest and most lavish room of the brownstone. Graves had started simple: using charms to make a sprawling octagonal room with a high cathedral ceiling with enchanted clouds and stars and light to reflect the weather outside or make the indoors sunny and bright while outside a storm raged, depending on Credence’s mood. There are tall windows that look out onto the city but cannot be looked into. The furniture is all huge and plush with deep greens and cherry woods. As the months passed and Credence’s confidence and magic grew, so did the ornamentation of the room.

Everywhere is a soft riot of color. Innumerable tiny white fairy lights float about the room, alongside the occasional wrought iron and oriental paper lantern. Plush patterned carpets layer the floor and silken draperies, ranging from sheer to solid material, hang all about the room. Thickly cushioned brocaded chairs and couches stand alongside towering cherrywood wardrobes and bookshelves and vanities. Every horizontal surface is piled with quills, parchment, books, silver dishes with bottomless sweets, and various magical trinkets and jewellry Graves had bought for him.  
It is lived in, the picture of the comfortable quarters of a magpie.

Against the far side of the room sat Credence’s immense, round canopy bed. Semi-obscured by sheer drapery, it is less laid out a proper bed and more a nest of eclectic blankets, furs, pillows, and a plentiful menagerie of stuffed animals, both magical and no-maj in origin.  
Even if Graves couldn’t see Credence through the parted curtains he certainly would have been able to find him by sound alone. Credence is on his knees in the center of the bed, head thrown back and skin flushing as pink as Graves imagined moments ago. His mouth is parted as he moans, pale throat with his fading kiss made bruises and bite marks unabashedly displayed.

Credence’s fingers seek beneath the silk of baby pink slip, that Graves had purchased at his request, to pull and tweak a nipple. Credence is fiercely grinding down against his stuffed unicorn, the robin’s egg blue of its fur giving it away. The plush creature is clenched between the boy’s rubbed red thighs and Graves spots the wet, hard length of him, raging beneath the short hem of the slip, held against the yielding softness of the unicorn with the thumb of his spread palm.

Graves feels the warm blush on his own cheeks as he is struck dumb by the vision before him. He clenches the glass of his drink in a tight hold and strides over to the the bed. Credence’s eyes fall open. He spots Graves and falters with a squeal, his hips stuttering and mouth gaping.

“P-Papa!” he gasps.

Graves smiles kindly, his eyes sharp. He sinks his fingers into Credence’s glossy black curls and holds him in place.  
“Spoiled boy,” he says, “I spent good money to give you fine toys and this is how you treat them?”

Picking up on Graves’ tone, Credence stammers, “I-It feels so good, Papa. Please don’t make me stop.”

“I never told you to stop.” Graves says. He soothes and pets his hair. Credence is squirming, he never entirely stops making little thrusts against the plush unicorn.

“You feel good, baby?”

Credence nuzzles into his Papa’s calloused palm and rolls his hips, “Ahh...Yes.”

Graves trails his fingers along Credence’s cheek as he steps back to sit in his leather chair beside the bed. He spreads his legs wide so his boy can see how much he affects him. He gazes into Credence’s fiery eyes as he takes a sip from his glass, palming the heavy bulge in his trousers. Credence eyes between Graves’ legs hungrily as his hips pick up their undulating pace again.

He is open and lost in his ecstasy, singular and greedy in chasing his gratification, focusing only on himself and his pleasure. Watching him like this makes Graves’ breath catch hard enough in his throat that he emits an audible gasp. Graves recalls the stooped bundle of bones the boy had once been. Eyes that had been perpetually downcast were now locked with his, fierce and ravenous and unafraid.

His cock twitches in his trousers and a thick spurt of precum plasters his already damp undergarments slick to his skin. Credence’s ass and thighs and belly jiggle as he moans and trembles. He watches Graves watching him, notices his eyes drifting to his rolling backside. Credence makes a show of taking two fingers between his lips and wetting them.

He reaches behind himself with his slick fingers and rubs around his hole, the way Graves taught him to do. He gasps, melting between the two points of pleasure. He rubs more firmly there and feels himself soften enough to slip the crook of one finger inside.  
Graves moans and presses his heel firmly against his aching erection. He is painfully hard and leaking freely against the tight fabric of his slacks.

“You look so beautiful, baby boy. You still feel good?” Graves says.

“Uhn--Yes, Papa. It feels so good!”

Graves cups and strokes the hard line of his cock. “Put both your fingers inside yourself. I know you can.”

“Y-Yes, Papa.”

Credence works two fingers into his hole then presses down on his soaked cock with his whole hand and begins to thrust in earnest. Everything is slick soft friction against his aching prick, his balls, his taint, and his sore thighs. The burning stretch of his fingers spurs him on. Sweat dampens his skin and the silk slip clings to him.  
Credence feels the oncoming wave of his orgasm and he lets himself crest. It’s Graves’ burning gaze on him like a physical weight that sends him tumbling into oblivion.

“Ahhh-! Oh, Papa! Papa, I’m--! Ohhhhh...”

Credence spurts ropes of pearly cum across the slick blue fur. He keeps thrusting and whimpering until he falls forward, bracing himself with his hands. He rolls off the unicorn to sprawl on his back, panting and radiant, staring sightless up at the canopy of bed curtains.

Graves knocks back the rest of his whiskey and all but growls as he rises from the chair. He yanks open his fly, freeing himself and stands by the bed, stroking slowly and staring down at his spent boy. The large bed is at the perfect height for Graves to reach out and seize Credence by the hair, pulling his face toward the edge of the bed. Credence eagerly opens his mouth, gazing up at the man he loves as Graves feeds him his thick cock.

He’s already close from the wanton display, he fights to keep his eyes from shutting as he works himself. He cups the back of Credence’s head as he thrusts between his wet red lips, Credence’s little tongue swirling fiercely around the swollen leaking head, his moans vibrating the length of him when Graves pushes to the back of his throat.

“Oh,” Graves gasps, “Oh, my sweet boy.”

Graves pops free with a wet sound and his hand strips fiercely along his cock, gasping praises as he comes into Credence’s open mouth. He finishes across his cheeks and down his chin, pushing his spent prick back between the suckling lips with a wrung out groan.  
He pulls free again, taking his hand from Credence’s hair to push his dripping spunk into his sticky mouth with a firm thumb.

“Such a good boy. My boy.”

Credence swallows, “Thank you, Papa…”

Graves grabs the corner of a nearby blanket and cleans himself off, tucks himself back inside and zips up. He kicks off his shoes and joins Credence on the bed, pulling him onto his side as he settles on his back. He cups Credence’s cheek and draws him into a kiss, tasting himself wet and thick on the boy’s tongue.

They settle with their arms around each other and Graves can feel Credence beginning to doze. Graves’ gaze settles on the rumpled unicorn plush. A bright blue spot on the multitude of colors and textures and forms on the lavish bed.

He is suddenly struck with inspiration: Credence, belly down on the bed with his ass held up by Graves’ firm grip on his hips as he pounds into him, Credence’s stiff prick rubbing against a thick pillow placed beneath him, one with enough textured patterning on it to drive the boy mad, make him cry out…

Graves hugs Credence’s lax form tighter and felt his eyes droop heavy. When they wake up he’ll cook them a light dinner and maybe he would tell Credence his latest fantasy or just wait until the next time he catches Credence in the act.

 


End file.
